


Happy Landings

by Yuripaws



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pining Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuripaws/pseuds/Yuripaws
Summary: Viktor hugs the wrong person at the airport.





	Happy Landings

**Author's Note:**

> Another Twitter AU~
> 
> I can't seem to stop myself from writing these! Please send help!!

Viktor tries not to trip as he steps off the plane he’d just taken from Russia. He nearly falls to the floor to kiss it and praise whatever existing God that he’s finally set foot on solid land.

His head is pounding, and he winces as another sharp burst of speech crackles out from the nearest loudspeaker. Yes, he knows which way the goddamned baggage claim is, that’s _quite_ enough, ma’am.

Spending the last night of his vacation with his family had been a huge mistake. He’d made the foolish decision to take his mother up on her offered drinking game, knowing that she’d drink his ass under the table. And she had. Viktor had been unfortunate enough to inherit his father’s alcohol tolerance.

He squints at his phone, still bleary-eyed from his many failed attempts at napping during his flight. Still no text from Yuri.

He had asked one of his roommates to pick him up from the airport when he landed. Mila had a dance class to instruct, and Georgi would be in the middle of a shift at work by the time Viktor arrived. Which had left Yuri. Who was very unreliable.

When he enters the terminal and doesn’t immediately see someone glare at him or call him an asshole, he assumes the worst--Yuri has forgotten to come get him. Or he’s overslept. Or he’s been arrested for attempting to murder someone in the middle of hellish airport traffic. Viktor prepares himself for an hour of waiting in a very uncomfortable chair. Or an hour of being passed out across a Starbucks booth.

He checks his phone again. Yuri hasn’t answered the new text he’d sent. He tries calling. No response.

Viktor looks around again. Surely Yuri is somewhere in here? It’s the middle of the afternoon and the airport is bustling with a lively crowd, so Viktor has a hard time scanning it for anyone familiar. Nothing so far, but he admires the view, because airport crowds always have something interesting to offer.

A young and very smartly dressed woman emerges like a glamorous butterfly into the terminal, causing turned heads and whispers, and Viktor assumes that she must be some minor celebrity. Not major enough for a private jet, apparently. 

He spots an old and withered man standing alone, but before his heart can break at the sight, he sees what he guesses are his grandchildren come barreling into him, nearly knocking him over. How sweet. Viktor’s lucky his mother isn’t with him, or she’d pinch his arm and demand to know when he’d make her a grandmother. She hasn’t gotten the memo, it seems.

When his eyes catch a couple embracing warmly, he looks away. A fine reminder from the universe that he’s alone. By choice, he tells himself firmly. He could have anyone he likes. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t like, and that’s the issue. There’s nothing and no one that excites him.

He searches impatiently now. There has to be an easy way to spot Yuri. What would he be wearing? A hoodie, obviously. Probably black. Animal print. Hood up. Looking like a grouchy punk.

Makkachin, he thinks suddenly. He had asked Yuri to bring Makkachin. Of course!

He looks around again, picking out every dog in the terminal. Small and yapping dogs in their owners’ arms or in carriers, large dogs padding around on leashes. There’s a chihuahua peeing in the corner. But no sign of his lovely brown poodle.

He’s already hefting his luggage off of the conveyor belt in the baggage claim area by the time Yuri finally texts him.

_Here._

Viktor is very tempted to send a photo of the large airport map displayed on the far wall and ask him to circle just where the fuck ‘here’ is supposed to be.

Viktor tries to call him, but it drops. His reception must be poor here. He has no choice but to loiter until his roommate decides to grace him with his presence.

He alternates between sitting and letting his ass suffer or standing and letting his feet suffer. He’s in the middle of the latter, his eyelids drooping as he nearly falls asleep against the wall he’s leaning on, when he hears the familiar clicking of dog nails against tiled flooring.

He blinks, his head jerking up, eyes trying to focus as he sees a large brown fluffy blur trot past. Makkachin? A man shorter than him follows close behind, face hidden underneath the hood of his baggy black sweatshirt. It’s covered in a faded blue pawprint design. It has to be Yuri.

“Yuri!”

Viktor launches himself from the wall and towards the other man, who stops to face him, and within the space of a second, Viktor realizes too many things far too late.

The dog that wheels around at his shout isn’t Makkachin. This one is smaller, with a coat of a different shade of brown.

There’s another man walking beside Yuri that Viktor has never seen before in his life. The huge smile that had been on his face falters as he turns to look at Viktor in shock.

And the man he’s now grabbing isn’t Yuri. Not even close. He sees a glint of glasses, and the eyes that widen behind them aren’t a piercing green. His hood slips off to reveal short black hair entirely unlike Yuri’s blond ponytail.

Viktor tries to draw back, but he’s already overbalanced, and he trips over his own feet towards the man who now reaches out instinctively to break his fall. He hasn’t braced himself enough for Viktor’s weight, and they crash down to the ground with a loud and collective grunt.

Viktor’s hand shoots out without thought to cradle the other man’s head as he falls on top of him. His hair is soft, though the floor is not, and Viktor winces hard when they hit it. Not-Yuri groans, his hands clutching the back of Viktor’s thick coat. Viktor can feel their warmth still, somehow.

“Sorry,” Viktor says hurriedly, raising himself to look the other man in the eyes, “I thought you were someone else, I-”

He stops, because the loveliest pair of brown eyes are fixed on him. The glasses they’re beneath fog up for a moment, and Viktor holds his breath just to see them again. He’s surprised there’s any air left in him at all.

Not-Yuri seems just as breathless, but that’s probably because Viktor has most likely caved in his lungs. His face is flushed hard, and when he squirms beneath him, Viktor feels something hot stab through his stomach.

Viktor wants to rise, but he’s transfixed, stunned, and he’s relieved to see that the other man is just as stunned. Hopefully not from a concussion. Viktor’s hand twitches where it’s still supporting Not-Yuri’s head, and he sees him shiver.

“Um,” the man says softly, eyes darting back and forth between Viktor’s own, and Viktor starts to panic as he sees him start to rise up towards him, “it’s okay-”

“Stay still!”

Viktor’s head snaps to where the man’s friend is, and he pales. He has his phone out, and his back is to them because he’s turned around to try to take selfies in front of them. Viktor feels the man beneath him scramble to get up, and he rises to his knees.

“Phichit, stop that!”

Phichit is glued to his phone now, his grin just as wide as ever, tapping away furiously. Viktor wearily wonders how many likes their photo will get.

“Come on, I had to. This is too perfect!”

Viktor snaps out of his idiotic daze, realizing that Not-Yuri is trying to wriggle out from under him. He gently grabs him by the hand and helps him to his feet. They freeze, inches apart, and Viktor feels like his breath has been stolen from him again. Neither of them have pulled away, their hands still clasped together.

He hears a sharp bark and feels something slam into him from behind, and he stumbles forward, nearly knocking the man down again. The man’s hands are much more steady as they catch him now, and there’s something in his smile that makes Viktor want to fall just one more time.

But Makkachin jumps at him again, trembling with excitement, and Viktor finally lets go to scratch him behind the ears. He’s about to flash his most charmingly apologetic grin at the man and maybe ask for his number or for his hand in marriage when he finally hears the words he’s been waiting for.

“Hey asshole, what the _fuck_ are you _doing?_ ”

At last. Yuri has arrived.

He’s slouched over in a black hoodie, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Starbucks in hand, scowl firmly plastered in place. He looks caught between amusement and embarrassment. Viktor has felt this way for the past year that had elapsed within the past minute.

“I, uh, thought that he was you. I mean,” he gestures at Not-Makkachin, who wiggles happily at him before trotting over to sniff at his almost-clone.

Yuri scoffs and turns away, already heading out the doors, and Viktor takes one last moment to attempt conversation with the angel he had accidentally felled.

“Uh. Sorry. Again. I mean, I-are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the other man says, grinning at him, “I think I’ll wear my hood down now, just in case.”

Viktor laughs weakly, feeling his face redden. He wants to ask him more. He wants to stay with him. But Yuri shouts at him to move his ass, and Makkachin nudges at his palm, whining.

His airport angel gives him a small smile and a small wave as they part ways.

Viktor is nearly passed out in Yuri’s passenger seat before he realizes that he had never gotten the man’s name.

*

He immediately collapses on the couch as soon as he gets home, flinging down his bags and falling face-first onto the soft cushions. By the time someone wakes him, the sun has already set.

“Hey, wake up!”

Viktor groans, shoving Georgi’s finger away from where it’s poking his side relentlessly. Can’t he just let him wallow in peace? He wants to return to his dream of flying through the skies with his airport angel. They owned a farm where they bred cloud poodles. It was very cute.

“Viktor, have you seen this? I couldn’t stop laughing. I showed the whole store!”

Viktor struggles up, glaring at him. What the hell is he talking about?

Georgi shoves his phone in his face, and Viktor squints at the screen. Some post on Instagram. He freezes.

“I go to college with this guy, and when he posted this I swear I screamed so loud I scared a customer shitless. Who is this? Did you get his number? I need to know!”

There he is. The angel.

It’s a photo of his companion, the smiling one. His grin is wicked, a hand held up coyly to nearly cover it in mock-shock. Behind him, on the floor, are Viktor and Not-Yuri. Except, he seems to be Not-Not-Yuri, because Viktor reads the caption now.

_Looks like Yuuri has “fallen” for someone at the airport! @katsu-yuu when’s the wedding??? LOL_

Yuuri. His name is Yuuri. That’s why he had responded to him. His airport angel finally has a name, and it’s Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says softly. He continues to stare at the photo. The two of them are on the floor, gazing into each other’s eyes. There’s a look passing between them that’s so raw that it almost feels invasive to watch. He takes Georgi’s phone to scroll through the comments, and blushes hard. This guy must be popular, because the photo’s been up for a few hours and already has hundreds of likes and dozens of comments.

There are too many people asking if they kissed, or if Yuuri had gotten the mystery guy’s number. Viktor’s eyes snap to one comment in particular.

_This is so embarrassing! I can’t believe you posted this!_

Viktor snatches up his own phone, tapping out the username in a hurry, and there he is. Right in front of him.

“Well? Did you?”

Viktor tosses Georgi’s phone back at him and nearly sprints to his own room. He falls backwards onto his bed, his eyes glued to the face on his screen.

Yuuri.

Viktor can’t help but feel like a creep as he slowly scrolls down his profile. His most recent photos are of him and his friend Phichit traveling. Photos of the two of them in Japan, visiting what appears to be Yuuri’s hometown. His family looks so kind and loving, and the hot springs resort that they live in looks cozy and warm. Not-Makkachin’s name seems to be Vicchan, and Viktor entertains the stupid idea that Yuuri might have named his dog after him.

There are photos of them in Thailand where Phichit used to live, and the look of wonder on Yuuri’s face in every photo makes Viktor’s heart soar. What a precious soul. Truly an angel.

He scrolls further, then pauses, his face reddening fast. There’s a photo of Yuuri looking very drunk, stripped down to a pair of tight briefs, gripping a pole with his thighs, his back impossibly arced.

_I can’t believe I did this last night... @phichit+chu made me promise not to delete it!_

Viktor wants to kiss the ground at Phichit’s feet, because Yuuri has the most exquisite body he’s ever seen in his entire life. He had felt so soft underneath him. The Yuuri in this photo looks like he’d feel hard on top of him. He blushes wildly, his hands trembling so badly that he drops his phone right onto his face.

He groans, rolling to the side and grabbing for it. When he looks at the screen again, his heart stops.

He’s just liked the photo.

From half a year ago.

Viktor is screaming internally.

Viktor is also screaming externally.

He tries to unlike it, but his finger slips and he re-likes it. _Fuck._

It’s too late. He’s sure that Yuuri has probably seen the notification already. No, Viktor would own up to it. Yeah, he had liked an old photo. He’d like a thousand more, and he’d like a number as well, please.

He scrolls back up to go through Yuuri’s tagged photos, and once he finds the airport one posted by Phichit, he likes that one, too. And he comments on it, too. Take that!

_You’re welcome, I’m always here to catch a fallen angel. ;)_

Viktor realizes that referring to Yuuri as a fallen angel implies that he’s been cast down into hell, but he’s willing to overlook it for the sake of appearing smooth.

And he follows both of them. Just because.

Yuuri follows him back immediately.

Viktor screams and nearly throws his phone against the wall. Shit! Fuck!

“Oh GOD,” Viktor groans, hearing his phone buzz and refusing to touch it. But he caves easily. Yuuri has replied to his comment.

_@v-nikiforov I think I was the one doing the catching, haha!_

Viktor stares. For a while. His fingers slowly move, almost against his will.

_@katsu-yuu Okay, my turn ~~ can I catch your number? <3_

Viktor really does throw his phone now. He’s incredibly thankful for the existence of heavy-duty cases.

When his phone goes off again, he flops half his body off of the bed to reach for it where it had fallen onto the floor. 

It’s a DM. With Yuuri’s number.

Viktor flops off the bed entirely now, dazed and staring up at the ceiling.

He really did that.

*

He shows up to the park nearly ten minutes late the next day. He’d spent too long trying to style his hair into something casual yet elegant, and he’d been torn between which shirt to wear. A T-shirt seemed like he wasn’t trying hard enough, but a button down screamed ‘trying too hard and is probably a tool.’ He’d settled for a plain polo along with his nicest pair of jeans.

The leash in his hand tightens as Makkachin jerks him forward after spotting the other dog. Vicchan strains towards him, the both of them barking until their noses finally meet. Yuuri turns to smile at him, and Viktor’s heart races faster. He’s wearing a light jacket that looks absolutely adorable on him, and Viktor notices that the tips of his nose and ears are pink.

“We could have met someplace a little warmer,” Viktor says, grinning to cover up his rapidly fraying nerves. Yuuri’s cheeks are pink now, too.

“Well, you seem to be doing fine,” Yuuri says, eyeing Viktor’s bare arms. Viktor does his best not to flex like a douchebag.

“It’s in my blood. My mother would slap me if I bundled up in this weather. ‘That slap should be warm enough,’ she’d say.”

Yuuri bursts out laughing, and Viktor feels light-headed. He hopes his grin isn’t too stupid, because he begins to feel giddy as Yuuri draws closer to him. They start walking, trailing behind their cheerfully bounding poodles, and Yuuri side-eyes him with a small smile.

“I’m so sorry that Phichit posted that photo. I hope you weren’t embarrassed.”

Viktor wants to tell Yuuri that he had been planning on meeting Phichit in Vegas for a drunk and spontaneous wedding as thanks for reuniting the two of them, but he keeps this to himself.

“I wouldn’t have even known your name if it weren’t for that. So, uh, thank him for me?”

Yuuri’s smile is a little mischievous now, and Viktor marvels at the way someone so soft can suddenly look so sly.

“But you did know my name. Sort of.”

“That doesn’t count,” Viktor points out, trying not to smile, “that was just me being an idiot.”

Yuuri turns his head to watch Makkachin and Vicchan playing, laughing softly, and the two of them lapse into a comfortable silence. Viktor’s heart hasn’t slowed down one bit. The two of them seem to fit together like puzzle pieces, and Viktor starts to feel like he’s finally found something that excites him.

Something that excites him. He reddens quickly. 

“I’m sorry about liking that photo,” he blurts out. Why is he like this?

Yuuri looks at him in surprise. He seems as though he’s waiting for him to clarify, but Viktor can tell by the dawning realization on his face that he already has an idea of which photo he’s talking about.

“The, er, you know. The... pole. One.” Viktor looks straight ahead now, his face in flames. Yuuri is quiet for a little while.

“That’s okay. It’s there for people to look at, I guess. I’m, um, glad you liked it? I get a little, uh... wild. At parties.”

“I hope I’m invited to the next one, then,” Viktor blurts again. Why. Is. He. Like. This. 

Yuuri shoots him a look, and Viktor tries and fails to avert his gaze. Yuuri’s face is flushed so prettily, and when he bites his lip, Viktor’s eyes trail down to it. He licks it now, and Viktor’s eye twitches. _Unfair._

“Well,” Yuuri says quietly, drawing even closer to him, “I’ll let you know.”

Viktor wonders if he’s still dreaming, and fights the urge to crane his neck to look for any floating poodle clouds.

They’ve stopped walking, but Viktor can still feel himself moving, because he feels dizzy, and Yuuri’s so close that Viktor’s breath is fogging his glasses again.

Viktor’s brain is desperately scrabbling for something to say, but suddenly Yuuri’s face is a lot closer, because something hits Viktor hard from behind. He’s shoved into Yuuri’s arms, and as he tries to jump back, his feet tangle in something wrapped taut around his legs. Yuuri’s arms are still around him, and Viktor sees his eyes widen as he’s yanked down with him as they fall.

Viktor grunts hard as he hits the pavement, but the impact he’d been expecting is slightly cushioned, because Yuuri’s arm cradles his head as he lands on top of him. Viktor feels the breath pushed out of him, but he doesn’t need it anyway, because Yuuri’s weight presses down into him, and his body melds against him so perfectly that Viktor is stunned.

Their eyes lock. Viktor can see himself reflected in Yuuri’s glasses for a moment. Then they fall onto his face.

“Ow,” he groans, and Yuuri lets out a snort of laughter, reaching out with his other hand to slide them off. His fingers brush his cheek, and they linger there. Yuuri’s face softens, his cheeks flushing hard as his hand trails lower to cup Viktor’s chin.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Yuuri says quietly, his face bright red. His own are bright and warm. Viktor’s mind goes blank. The hand tangled in his hair is warm. The breath against him is warm. The body pressed into him is warm.

“You should see them up close,” Viktor whispers, shocking the both of them. Yuuri leans forward to press his forehead into his, and he’s warm. So warm. He’s lost in eyes that are deep and brown and warm.

The lips that move against his are warm, and Viktor gasps softly into Yuuri’s mouth as they press harder. His own widens, and he feels Yuuri shiver hard as their kiss is deepened. Viktor’s heart is beating impossibly fast. He holds his airport angel closer, hoping that this isn’t another dream, hoping that he won’t wake up on his sofa alone.

But he’s real. He can see him, he can taste him, he can feel him. He’s real.

They pull away, and although Yuuri’s head blocks out the sun, Viktor’s world is illuminated by twin stars. He can feel him trembling, then realizes that he’s trembling as well. The breeze picks up slightly, and Yuuri shivers again. Viktor’s lips curve into what he prays is a suave smile.

“This should keep you warm enough.”

And he kisses him again.

Yuuri laughs into his mouth, but before he can kiss him back, the two of them are buried under a wriggling mass of fluff. Makkachin, whose leash is still wrapped tight around Viktor’s legs, licks at their faces excitedly. Vicchan barks, trying to leap over Yuuri but falling short and landing on top of him. Yuuri’s face is shoved down into Viktor’s shoulder with a loud ‘oof,’ and Viktor wraps his arms tighter around him, fighting down a fit of laughter.

“I think we should get up,” Yuuri says with a muffled groan.

“I dunno,” Viktor grins, flying high, “I think I like falling.” 


End file.
